Cerulean Seas

A/N: this fic was written as a collaboration between myself and Ashley, and features an OC of mine, Keren "Lys" Eos. Enjoy!

---

When it begins, only impressions and images, not-quite cohesive thoughts catch in her mind, and although Keren knows she is awake, as she watches Obi-Wan approach her across the beach she feels as though she is inside of some wonderful dream. 

The sun is setting behind him and it gives his skin a warm golden glow while droplets of water from his swim in the surf glisten on the corded muscles of his upper body, which flex and shift as he pushes his hair back again and begins the slow walk back to shore. A playful smile curves against his already handsome face, transforming it with an expression that makes her breath catch because his thoughts, his desire, is so evident. Seeing, or maybe sensing, her reaction, he smiles, and his blue eyes glint with the wry humor that she knows so well.

Only a few meters away from her, a final wave rushes up behind him, as if even the ocean refuses to let him go, but he fights it effortlessly, streams of cool ocean water spraying across his body as he continues to stride her way.

They meet just as another wave rushes past her ankles. He takes her hand and places a gentle kiss against her palm, an innocent action that is belied by the strengthening look of desire in his eyes as he regards her.

“I've been looking for you,” he says, the words half-obscured by the sound of the ocean.

“Here I am,” she replies as she shivers under his touch. “I'm all yours.”

---

When it continues, it is after they have returned to their shared quarters. They decide to shower together, to wash away the rough grains of sand that cling to their bodies and the filmy salt water left over from the ocean's caress. After they strip down, she watches him activate the water, and thinks that she's done this all day long: waited for him, watched him, with only stolen kisses and teasing touches to satisfy her.

But now she wants so much more...

Compared to the salty water of the ocean, the water streaming through the large shower feels like silk against her skin; however, the softness of the water and soap is contrasted by the callouses on his hands, from years of lightsaber training, as they caress her bare skin. Steam wafts through the space, partially obscuring the walls around them.



"And I thought I needed a shower," he chuckles. His slender, strong fingers create whorls of soap along her arms, her chest, her stomach. "You're covered in sand as well, Lys. How do you manage it?"



She wants to reply, she really does, but her heart is hammering against her ribs too quickly to allow real speech. As she looks up into his eyes, she wonders if the ocean kept a part of itself within their depths. 

Just like the light from the setting sun glimmering off the surface of the cerulean waters, his eyes catch a glint - amusement and affection and passion all in one look; he knows he's rendered her speechless, and he's delighting in the fact.

"Can I wash your hair?" he asks, pulling her to him and she hums her approval.

Stepping closer, she wraps her arms around his waist as he reaches for the shampoo somewhere behind her. A rich citrusy smell assaults her senses as he lathers the liquid and then his hands are in her hair, nimble, strong fingers massaging her scalp as she tilts her head back both to accommodate him and to watch his expression as he does so.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile, but his gaze is fixed on her hair; his hands twine within the strands, moving from her forehead to that sensitive place behind her ears that makes her eyes flutter. She can't help but let out a soft murmur of approval, to which he chuckles again.

When he speaks, it's against her ear, his lips brushing the outer edges. "I take it my efforts are being met with satisfaction?"

 

She opens her mouth to reply, but her words are lost as his fingers move to the back of her head, kneading, stroking. "Oh..."

 

So the soap can do its job, he is using his body to block most of the stream of water, but a few droplets escape and make their way to her legs. Out of the direct line of the water, there's the faintest chill to the air, even with the steam, and as her skin prickles she feels him pull her closer.

 

"Oh?" His voice is deeper, hardly a whisper, and she feels another shiver across her skin again.

His hands still as he awaits her response and blinking, she gives herself a mental shake. As she clears her head, just a little, she pulls away to smile back at him.

 

“I'm getting chilly," she murmurs and he chuckles.

With easy movements, agile in a way she'll never be, he turns so the hot spray of the shower is now raining across her back. Strong hands cup her jaw and he tilts her head to rinse the suds from her hair. The feel of the water across her scalp and his fingers again moving through her hair are both almost enough to overcome the measure of composure she'd temporarily regained. Her eyes open and she looks up at him, working out how to voice her feelings, but finding herself unable to speak.

Once again the look in his eyes tells her he knows every bit the affect he has on her. As long as he keeps touching her like that, though, she certainly has no complaints.

However, as much as she's enjoying the shower the desire for more - his mouth on her, the weight of his body pressing her to the bed, warm and cozy and comfortable and all night - is becoming more persistent in her thoughts.

Even as she feels the water begin to cool, his hands find their way from her hair down to the curve of her bottom and her awareness narrows to one thing, and the need comes upon her quickly and with intensity.

It's time for bed.

Taking a step back, preparing to tell him this very thing, her own movements are perhaps a bit hasty. A drop of soapy water slides across her forehead and into her eye at the same moment her foot slips across the glass tile of the shower floor.

As a Jedi, his reaction comes instantaneously. He catches her in his arms, but the motion and her own instability forces the length of her torso to press fully against his body. It's the closest they've been all day - wet skin sliding over wet skin, her full breasts crushed to his chest and his hardening length pulsing against her stomach.

"Lys..."

Unprepared for this turn, his own breath seems short now and the sound of his voice, low and needy, groaning his nickname for her...it completely undoes her.

"Obi-Wan..."

Her own voice is breathless, heavy with longing, and her entire awareness is centered on him: his hands cradling her body with an astonishing mixture of gentleness and surety, and his length, stiff against her belly, a promise of things to come. She looks into his eyes again and knows she's lost, as always.

"Now," she adds, leaning up to brush her lips against his with the word. "Now."

Still in his arms, she can feel one of his hands ghost down her waist, towards her core even as he keeps his gaze fixed on hers. "Now?" he asks, a faint teasing edge to his voice even as his fingers flutter along her outer folds. "Are you sure?"

The sensation sends a shudder through her; she pushes herself into his hand even as she reaches up to kiss him. Even though the water is cooling more with each passing moment, she knows she cannot wait any longer for him. "Please..."

He chuckles against her mouth, and all at once she feels his fingertips slide deeper, grazing her sensitive tissue with a knowing touch. Caught in his arms as she is, she's almost completely supported by his strength; she is at his mercy. His fingers dance along her cleft and she whimpers his name again, the need spiraling within her, flushing her body with a heat that contrasts with the cool spray of water. Her hips thrust up to meet him, because she wants more, harder, now.

She cries his name once more even as she reaches for his stubbled cheek, pulling him closer to kiss him, to taste his mouth. In the next moment, her orgasm takes her by surprise and her eyes close as she kisses him; she's lost to the rush of heady pleasure that he's wrought within her with only his hands. When she opens her eyes again, all she sees is the blue of the ocean and his smile.

"I think it's time for bed," he murmurs, reaching up to cradle her cheek. She can feel his erection pressing against her body, still, and is amazed - as she always is - at the desire he elicits within her. Never enough, she thinks as she smiles at him. There can never be enough of this.

"Yes, please," she replies as she rights herself. There is an empty place where his hands were, but the feeling is mitigated by the knowledge of what is to come. Because she can't help herself, she reaches for his swollen length as he's shutting off the water; it's her turn to show him how well she knows his body, and she takes delight in the way his eyes close and he groans her nickname again.

The sound propels her forward, pure inspiration. The chill on her damp skin, the slippery, hard tiles in the shower - none of it matters. In an instant she's on her knees before him, her lips slipping along his length. Carefully, she wraps her fingers around him and draws the head into her mouth, her tongue fluttering over his tip, and then she sucks as she takes him in further, a light, gentle action that makes him gasp.

As good as she knows she's making him feel, she can't help but delight in his taste, the way he fills her completely. At this thought, she wraps her hands around his base with enough pressure to cause him to groan her name again, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily as she curls her tongue along his length. His hands reach down to tangle in her dripping hair, an echo of his earlier actions, and she increases her pace.

Before she realizes his hands have moved, as caught up as she is in the pleasure of having his eager length in her mouth, he's hauling her to her feet at the same instant she notices her knees are already aching. The way he takes care of her, knows what she needs before even she does, it swells her heart with a deep love she didn't know existed before him.

As he pulls her to him, he gives her a wry smile before kissing her mouth. "Bed," he says again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

A laugh of pure joy escapes her as he pulls her out of the shower but he holds his expression of mock-seriousness. It's true, her inability to resist him has gotten them in to trouble more than once before, but it's not her fault, she reasons, he's just so damn sexy. Still, she'd prefer to continue this un-bruised and the shower tiles have proven unforgiving so far.

Somehow, she manages to stay still as he rubs the soft towel over her body and she watches, grinning as he hastily dries himself. The towel is tossed carelessly to the ground and as he meets her eyes, his serious expression is belied by the glimmer of passion in his heated gaze. It's something she knows very very well.

He sweeps her up and into his arms and she can't help a squeal as he carries from the fresher and drops her to the bed. He joins her immediately and she shuffles quickly to her knees, pushing on his shoulders to get him to lay back.

'Lys' always finishes what she starts.

Thankfully the bed is far, far softer against her knees than the bathroom's tiles, and she flashes him a grateful smile that he returns even as his length swells further. Her hair is still dripping wet; as she leans over and takes him in her mouth, the soaked strands brush against his thighs, dotting his muscles with moisture. Again, she savors the taste of him, the feel of his throbbing skin beneath her mouth, and can't help but let out a wordless noise of pleasure.

At the sound and the vibration against his skin, he sucks in his breath and shifts his hips; she takes him deeper, as deep as she can, and increases her pace as well. After so many times, she knows exactly what he likes. Her efforts are rewarded soon enough, for he groans her name as she brings him to his climax, and she is flooded with him.

A moment later, as he's catching his breath, she leans up to kiss him, savoring the feel of her body pressed to the solid planes of muscle. The moment her lips touch his, he cups her cheek and wraps his arms around her, surrounding her with his warmth and his strength. He deepens the kiss and for an instant she's flooded with his essence again, only this time it is no physical sensation, but rather a swell of emotion that takes her aback with its force.

Love, overwhelming and powerful. It's written in his touch and his kiss, and she doesn't know if it's an echo of her own feelings or something else, something separate from herself. When they part, she searches his eyes for the answer.

She finds it.

"I want you to know how much I love you," he whispers, his warm breath feathering against her lips and causing her desire to stir once more. "Lys..."

The blue of his eyes has darkened with arousal, but his gaze is unfettered by lust or delusion; when he looks at her, his feelings are clearer than a cloudless day at sea. Again, she's met with the overwhelming feeling of love, and she realizes that it is indeed coming from him, somehow projected to her. I want you to know...

"I love you as well," she replies in a thick voice. "We're so lucky that we found each other."

He smiles. "I couldn't agree any more."

As he leans forward to kiss her, his hands slide drown her arms, down her hips, and lower still, and she sucks in her breath.

Gentle, strong fingers sweep across her thigh. His touch is precise and always perfect; as if he's alighting each and every nerve ending with incredible sensation. It's an experience that startles her every time; it never fades.

The edge of her desire has softened; the desperate need she's felt for him all day is now only simmering instead of threatening to consume her, after the pleasure of the release they've brought each other.

So she is unbothered as his fingers drag slowly up her thigh, even still as they drift only to her hip for an affectionate caress and then back to her arm.

The fact that they do indeed have all night is not lost on her. As long as he's touching her, there's no rush.

He lays down again, his head near hers on the pillow and gathers her securely in his arms. She shivers and he draws her closer still, though it is only partly from the chill of the air on her bare body.

For long, long minutes they stay that way, her head resting in the crook of one arm while the other arm is curved over her form, keeping her near. Her own hands are on his chest, his shoulders, his neck - never stilling in one place for very long.

Eventually, her body begins to come alive again, the heat of his hardening erection against her thigh a persistent reminder of all the things she still wants to do with him tonight.

She shifts in his embrace, arching her back just a little and her fingers drift to his face. The darkening of his irises tell her again that his thoughts are the same as hers.

One slender, feminine finger brushes across his mouth and then she traces the outline of his lips with her fingertip. As she pauses once, he presses a kiss to her finger and then she resumes the sensual path, smiling at him and thinking now of all the things she wants him to do to her. Perhaps they won't get to all of them tonight, but she's willing to try.

Again, he senses she's ready for more. "What do you want?" he murmurs, his voice deep, the question more of a promise of her complete satisfaction.

She smiles softly again, thinking, but as she continues to caress his lips the answer becomes obvious and is delivered on a sigh. "Your mouth on me."

A glint appears in his eyes; she likens the expression to the gleam of sunlight upon a ripple of ocean. "Where?"

"Everywhere."

"Ah," he replies, amused. "Everywhere." A half-smile flickers across his face - a mixture of mischief and delight - and the glint intensifies as she feels his hips shift, pressing his arousal against her. His reply is whispered into the sensitive skin of her ear, the words echoing within her mind. "My favorite place..."

A light kiss brushes her earlobe, followed by a gentle sucking feeling that makes her shiver all over again, because the agility of his lips is almost too much to resist, and he's only just begun his journey. Her eyelids flutter and she sucks in her breath, but he moves his mouth again, to the soft skin of her neck and throat, sucking, nipping, kissing with a feather-touch. The heady mixture of sensations stokes the rising flame within her body, and she murmurs his name as she smooths her hands along the tight muscles of his arms.

His body shifts, angles upward. For one moment she's separated from his warm embrace, but before she can regret the loss, his mouth is on her collarbone, dropping kisses upon her like so much rain. The flame within her rises; she can feel heat coiling within her center as her body starts to ache for him, for more.

Still, his kisses continue, across her collarbone, then down, above each breast, and she give a small, anticipatory whimper. However, in his fashion he teases her further, moving back up to her shoulder, then her left arm. His mouth leaves a trail of kisses along her inner elbow to her wrist, after which he kisses each of her fingertips tenderly.

Rather than be frustrated by the pace, she sighs and whispers his name, runs her right hand through his still-damp hair, savoring the feel of it through her fingers. Suddenly, he catches her right hand and begins his journey again, starting with her fingertips this time, kissing each one before moving to the palm of her hand, then her wrist. The kisses are more heated than before and as he shifts his body she can feel how hard he is, how ready. But he's patient, more so than anyone she's ever met, and she knows that he wants to take his time.

Kisses drop on her inner elbow again - though he pauses to suck at the sensitive skin where no one has ever kissed, before he took the time - then he makes his way back up her bicep to her shoulder, and down. Her breath comes shorter, now, because his agile mouth is dropping lower, edging with agonizing, delicious slowness towards her right nipple, stiff and waiting for him.

The coral pink bud and the circle of sensitive tissue around it is puckered, her skin tight and firm from arousal and anticipation. The sensation of his mouth moving closer with each passing moment to the place where Lys most wants it to be is agonizing in a heady, wonderful sort of way.

As he reaches the top swell of her breast, gently, his hand moves to cup the full weight of it, lifting it, and he nuzzles the flushed skin. His nose and lips brush across her, his beard tickling and she hums, needing him to know how much she appreciates each caress but unable to form the words.

At the sound, he lifts his head and her eyes flutter open. Her gaze is locked in his - the love between them still so clear, and binding them together. She couldn't look away even if she wanted.

Even still, caught up in the swirl of emotions and sensations, she's hyper-aware of every move he makes. The strong hand that had been cupping her breast so reverently, shifts and once again it's mischief and desire that lights his eyes.

Using one finger he traces the curve of her breast and his brow knits in mock-contemplation. "Hmmmm," he murmurs, still sweeping his finger across her. "Do you want my mouth here?"

"Yes," she sighs, thinking , yes, always yes. And he complies, his lips pressing to the curve of her swollen flesh.

"And here?" he asks, fingers grazing upwards, ever closer.

"Yes..." A little more breathless, a little more needy.

This time his he tastes her, but it's not enough.

And as he lifts his head again, finally his finger begins to trace the circle of the tip of her breast. She's almost panting now, close, so close and she wants it so badly.

Tighter and tighter circles, the tip of his finger is on her aureola now and she begins a silent chant in her head, yes, yes, yes. Her eyes close, it's too much and then his finger just barely flicks across the tip of her nipple and she calls out to him, answering before he even has the chance to ask. "Yes!"

As she utters the word, his finger flicks across her nipple again, and her back is arching, her body instinctively yearning to be closer, her breasts thrust forward as if she's making an offering.

And he accepts; his mouth closes around her nipple, warm and wet, and his tongue lashes across her. As she knew it would, the kiss sends flashes of heat racing through her blood, straight to her center. Without thinking, her hands lift to thread through his hair, wanting so much for him to continue.

In the background, she can hear someone whimpering with pleasure; belatedly she realizes it's her, but the thought is dim and fleeting, because his tongue is swirling around her nipple and the only thing she can divert any attention to is the feeling of his mouth against her skin. Her hands tighten in his hair, because she wants to pull him closer but unwilling to do anything that might impede his motions.

Suddenly, his teeth graze the bud of her nipple. The touch is light but firm, and the differentiating textures of his teeth, his sweeping tongue and his lips is enough to send another ripple of heat to her core.

 

When his fingers graze up to caress her other nipple, all she can do is whimper his name again.

 

While he works her with his mouth, his fingertips toy with her other breast with a slightly more insistent touch than before. Her skin prickles beneath his hand, her body is flush with heat and shivering, and her hips shift up, towards his, in a silent plea for more.

Obi-Wan, her Obi-Wan, makes a noise of pure pleasure, and she groans in reply. His fingertips tweak the sensitive bead of flesh as his tongue caresses her other peak.

Within her body, arousal is flooding her core and the urgent need for him is growing harder and harder to suppress. She has no idea how long she can sustain this heady state of arousal; as much as she wants to last all night - and all the next day, if she had her way - he has the power undo her patience and persistence with only a touch.

Perhaps he catches on to her thoughts; surely they are broadcasting well enough. He lifts his mouth away from her breast, but replaces it with his hand, and as he speaks, his fingers dance around each of her nipples. “More?"

There is no way she can speak with any coherence, so she only makes a wordless whimper and angles her hips towards him, the singular desire for his body inside of hers filling her entire self. In response, he chuckles, then leans up to kiss her mouth. His tongue skims her lips, then delves between them, a promise of things to come, she hopes, but before she can do anything his hands lift from her breasts.

One moves to support his weight, the side of his thumb pressing against her waist, skin to skin.

 

The other trails lower, down her abdomen and towards her center, and when she realizes what he's doing, her entire body tenses in anticipation. Slowly, slowly, slowly his fingers grace down her stomach, then lower, and he kisses her the entire time.

As nimble fingers reach the apex between her legs, the kiss is broken by each of them simultaneously. There is no hesitation in his touch; he slides two fingers deep inside her and the incredible feeling is enough to make her gasp. At the same moment, a quiet groan escapes his lips and she knows it's because he's found her so wet and ready for him, for all of him.

"Lys."

Her name is a rumble from deep within his chest, so full of want she almost cries out. Two strong fingers are still pistoning inside her - all the way out, the tips of his fingers sliding across her sensitive, slick folds, and then all the way back in, creating a hot, deep tension within her body as he rubs tiny circles against her clit.

She wants to answer him, but each movement inside of her steals her breath. Her hips roll gently with his movements, and her hands are clutching at his arms. It feels so good, and she wants to tell him...

Finally, his fingers still, deep inside her, for only a moment, but she manages a breathy, "Yes."

Yes, always yes.

"I want you so badly, Lys." His voice is husky, but even, his polished accent warmed by his affection, softened by desire. The lilting sound of his deep voice is something she will never, never tire of - saying her nickname, telling her he loves her, telling her he wants her.

And she wants him too. So, so much. "Yes," she sighs. "Please."

His fingers leave her then, and she laments the loss, but she knows what comes next is better.

Every part of her is aware of all of him. He shifts above her; his arms are around her, braced on his forearms, hands cradling her shoulders; their torsos are pressed together, the tips of her swollen breasts grazing his chest and her legs are tangled with his. She spreads them further apart for him and then drags the arch of one foot across his calf. The soft hair on his leg tickles a little so she presses harder, enjoying the tactile feeling.

His length is brushing against her folds and as he kisses her again, deep and slow, she wonders how much longer he can possibly deny this. The ache for him to take her is overwhelming. But pinned as she is beneath his weight, there's little she can do except wiggle her hips, so she spreads her legs farther and angles her hips until the tip of his erection presses to her swollen clit. A jolt of electricity races through her and she can't help doing it again.

Please, she begs, but she's not sure if she's said the word, or only thought it.

It doesn't matter because in the next second he's sliding into her. He fills her in a way she can't describe, but it's complete and perfect. He moves slow, stretching her and she knows her inner muscles are pulsing around him and she wants more, wants to give him more.

Spurred by desire, she lifts her legs to wrap around his waist and he sinks the rest of the way inside her. The groan he utters then is the most desperate and wonderful she's heard yet. "Oh, Lys..."



For the space of a breath he is completely still as his gaze drops to hers, the blue of his irises capturing every last part of her focus. Though she is not Force-sensitive in the least, in this moment she can feel his love rushing across her like waves, and she knows - again and always - that she is lost to this man, irrevocably.



She pulls him closer because they can never be close enough, even fused together in this most intimate way.

Of course he knows. He smiles once, incongruously gently given the circumstances, and brushes a kiss against her forehead.



Then their bodies begin to move in earnest.



There is no hesitation, no searching for the right rhythm; it's right, now and - she thinks - every time. He fills her completely, perfectly, and she is hyper-aware of everything about him and the moment that they're sharing: the feel of him moving inside of her, the way his eyes have remained locked onto hers, the sheen of sweat that has started to form along his shoulders and chest, the scent of her own arousal mingling with the citrus from her shampoo, his breath against her lips that is shortening with each thrust of his hips...

 

His voice. Force, Obi-Wan's voice.



He groans her name again, almost a plea, and she wants to say his name in return so that he will know how much she loves him, loves this moment, but speech has fled her throat and all she can do is gasp each time he sinks his length inside of her body. 

His eyes, dark with desire, focus intently on her again and he presses his mouth to hers once, in a soft kiss. "I know, love," he murmurs, his lips brushing across her cheek.



The connection she feels to him swells her heart; it helps to build the passion within her almost as much as the feeling of his body moving against her. "Ohhh..." she moans, her voice soft and breathy. The tips of her fingers begin to tingle as tension coils tighter and tighter in her core.



Obi-Wan drops his head to her shoulder then, his breath tickling her neck and she wraps her arms tight around him, her hands sweeping up and down the toned planes of his back, caressing and clutching at him. It's so good, and she's so close.



The muscles of her legs are starting to strain, and she lets them fall apart a little wider, opening herself to him, but otherwise ignores the faint twinge of soreness. Nothing matters more to her in this moment - her thighs begin to quiver, but she holds tight to him, wanting to make it last as long as possible even if it's only seconds longer.



Her breath is short, and she's crying out, softly, with each thrust of his hips. It's all-consuming; she's letting herself being swept away on the crest of their passion; it starts low in her belly, warm and tingling and sweeps throughout her body.

Pleasure builds within her core like a gathering wave, and she feels herself being lifted up, up, until she knows that she is reaching her peak. A gasp, and she cries out his name even as she hears her own echoing around her in his voice. The orgasm rolls through her entire body and sweeps away every thought, every emotion save overriding love and happiness, and the feeling is heightened as she feels him give one, two, three final thrusts within her before he too, is spent.



Gradually, she realizes that they have stopped moving and that the quiet, thudding sound is her own heartbeat. His breath is short on her lips; her eyes open and she notes the flush that has spread across his face and the curve of his damp hair as it falls across his forehead haphazardly. He is smiling. She realizes that she is as well.



Their eyes meet and for a moment they are each giddy with delight from the utter relief of their climaxes, and from the pleasure and passion they have just shared. She feels his fingertips reach up to brush her cheek before he kisses her lips once, softly. Her legs are still wrapped around his waist and he is still sheathed quite firmly within her core, and the closeness is too wonderful for her to want to end.



On impulse, she tilts her chin and kisses the tip of his nose, then gives him a playful smile. "I'm afraid I'm all sweaty again," she says in a mock-worried voice.



"We can't have that, can we?" His reply is affectionate and edged with his particular kind of humor, and she grins as his eyes gleam with anticipation, even though he's still inside of her. Obi-Wan kisses her cheek again, then shifts so he can get up, but before he is parted from her, he glances back down and his gaze is filled with tenderness. "Do you have any idea, Lys?"



"Any idea of what?"



He kisses her again. "How much I love you?"



When he smiles at her again, the expression is full in a way she can't quite understand, but she knows that she has a lifetime to figure it out.